Nothing
by BroflovskiFan
Summary: He had known it meant nothing. So then why was he crying? SK ONESHOT


Nothing

Synopsis: He knew it had meant nothing. So then why was he crying? Stan/Kyle ONESHOT

Quick little blurb I wrote rather than my research paper. I am so screwed.

A/N: This is an independent story, not related to any of my other stories in any way.

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Kyle gazed through bleary eyes out his bedroom window and onto the snow covered streets below. As two people holding hands walked past his house, another bout of tears streamed down his face, mixing with the stains of billions of others already shed. It seemed an eternity had passed since 'it' hadn't happened, and the world was determined to persistently remind Kyle of what he could never have. The entire planet was laughing at him, and the seventeen year old boy couldn't help but feel that he had been played a fool. Worst yet, it had been the person he had trusted most that had been the trickster.

The tears paused for a brief moment as a wave of nausea came over the boy. He clutched his stomach, shutting his eyes tight, waiting for the sensation to pass. After a moment he reopened his eyes and loosened his grip.

He knew it had meant nothing. He knew it had never happened. Kyle thought that he had known better than to get attached, especially to someone who clearly didn't share the same perspective as him on the situation. Yet as much as he had resisted, Kyle had found himself swept under in the boy's charm, his smile and his eyes, the colour of the deepest ocean. Kyle closed his own, trying to remember his touch, his smell, his kiss. For a brief moment, it had seemed as if he was actually there, but the moment Kyle opened his eyes his insides were replaced with emptiness once again. Kyle vaguely wondered how something that had never happened, that had never been, could make him feel so hollow and alone.

The first time it had never happened, they had been playing video games in Kyle's family room. Kyle's parents were gone for the day, meaning that the two of them were alone. He remembered sneaking a look more than once at his best friend, smiling at the concentration plastered all over his face. Stan had brushed his jet black hair from his eyes, once, then twice. Kyle hated to admit his feelings for his best friend, but they were undeniable. He had found himself unable to tear his eyes off of his features, causing him to lose more than one game.

Kyle had turned his head to sneak another peek at his friend, only to find the former's blue eyes staring right back at him. Kyle, feeling a blush creep along his cheeks, had hastily looked away and turned his attention back to the game. But Stan hadn't done the same, and Kyle had had to turn back to face him when the feeling of Stan's eyes boring into his side had become too much.

'What?' he remembered saying, more defensively than he had intended.

His best friend had jumped him then. Stan knocked him over, pressing him into the ground. Kyle had been completely shocked, and he had guiltily enjoyed the sensation in his lower regions caused by the position of his best friend. Stan had leant down and pressed his lips against the other boy's, his wandering hand traveling southwards.

Kyle shook his head vigorously. None of that had happened. Stan had never jumped him, and never pressed his lips up against his own. Stan had never reached underneath Kyle's top, he hadn't given him a hickie on his neck. Stan hadn't cried out in pleasure when Kyle had grabbed him, Stan had never said 'I love you.'

Kyle hadn't screamed out Stan's name as he was brought to a climax…

The moment it was over, before either of them had even had time to catch their breath, Stan had said 'This never happened,' and that was that. That was how they were going to go on living normally.

And perhaps that would have been okay, if it hadn't happened a second time, then third, then fourth until the point where Kyle couldn't remember the number. He was never strong enough to refuse Stan, and even while his brain was screaming no, his heart had drowned it out with its' cries of 'yes'. Kyle had known the smart thing to do, he just hadn't actually done it.

He knew it had meant something to Stan, but Stan would rather die than admit it. And he had known that when he had confessed to Stan that he wanted what hadn't happened to actually have happened. He knew he was walking into a black closet, and he knew that Stan was going to shut the door in his face. But he had still done it anyways, hoping that just maybe there was the chance that he felt the same way too.

Of course he hadn't. And now Kyle was alone, only left with the memories of what had never actually occurred. He had lost his lover, and even worst, his best friend. In the week since Kyle had admitted his feelings for his friend, Stan had found a new group of friends to hang out with. A new Kyle. One that didn't secretly yearn for his presence every night. One that would never share all the experiences that they had. Or hadn't. He and Stan had been to the ends of the world together, and now he was gone.

Kyle knew that one day, he would need to let go and forget all this. But until then, Kyle would spend every night by himself, alone in his room, where his only solace were his own tears as he cried himself into a deep and dreamless sleep.


End file.
